Solution for a living
by your-biohazardous-friend
Summary: Calan muses about his life within Providence walls and his relationship with White Knight. Rated M for a reason.


**A/N1:** Inspired by a book "_PRISONERS. Equator, cocaine and …_" by Tomasz Morawski

**A/N2:** It's one of my many crack theories why Calan is so loyal to White and first time when I am actually writing a fanfiction in first person.

**Warnings**: violence, alcohol consumption, drug usage, (homo)sexual themes and OOC.

**Pairings:** Knight/Calan; mentions of Knight/Six and Knight/Six/Calan

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**Solution to a living**

_By your-biohazardous-friend_

I couldn't believe my own luck: I not only survived another year at Providence but also got promotion. I'm captain now – an important job. Everything seems to be much more arranged now but not peaceful, not yet. Humans are known of two things which makes them special: an opposing thumb and their ability of adaptation. But even if we adopted all right, the pandemic panic that the Event caused, even if we know much more about the nanites than we used to, is still there… I remember it as if it was yesterday.

Right after the explosion – when none of the scientist knew anything about what those nanites really were - people suddenly lost all trust toward each other, for weeks there were no new weddings, boundaries formed, friendships made or love felt. Nothing. People were looking at each other suspiciously waiting for other person to pop-up into a '_spoiled meat_' in front of their very eyes. At most of the time the suspicions were exaggerated but… my fiancé turned into this kind of… monster – that's why I joined the organization in the first place. If any of the squads didn't kill her to this day, she most likely still roams somewhere near our family ranches in Texas. I still have hope of having her back one day. I try to not to think about it much though, or else I'll break down.

At Providence you have to be tough, every thing about it is still somehow unfinished and chaotic.

I still remember that at first months Dl Hutton, the 'warden' - as we nicknamed him, treated us all more like prisoners than humanity last hope. Maybe due the fact that most of us – 'grunts' - really _were_ prisoners: Men who agreed to this madness for shortening their several for life sentences to just one. Because of that I could die not only torn into smithereens by a '_spoiled meat'_ but also from a hands of drug addicted thugs. Don't judge them thought, it's not that we had a choice whenever or not to take drugs. We all got them as part of our 'rations' – it was suppose to enhance our durability, made us work harder while sleeping less. At first I was disgusted by the sheer idea but I adapted… quicker than I hoped I would.

It was a showcase of human nature at it's finest.

The food was terrible as well – the same tasteless hogwash was served every day for every meal. After weeks, this grayish pulp was gagging up my throat. I wished for a meatloaf with mashed potatoes, just as my beloved would have prepared for Sunday lunch, if she was still alive or at least human. There was also another problems like not enough room for us all to sleep. People were all cramped in an enormous hangar. Those who had already banded, were sleeping for two, three men on a one mattress. I remember that for a first week I tried to sleep crouching, with my back pressed to the wall. I was a sentence-less newbie, cold and confused. I could still sleep-pretend that way to this day, if not 'Knight' who accosted me after one of missions. He asked me if I would like to crash a night on his mattress, he said he mostly sleep alone – except few times when his 'business partner' – a guy named Six - crash to have some rest in between missions.

Knight was either very dangerous, having dangerous friends or highly respected: no grunt slept alone at Providence. I've been battling with my thoughts for rest of a day, confronting all pros and cons. I was alone, confused, sleep deprived and stressed beyond my imagination. 'Knight' had been here longer than me – could teach me a thing or two. At the end of a day I came to his spot in hangar and sat next to his mattress. He moved aside, inviting me.

And thus we started to sleep next to each other. Occasionally my new found _partner_ had been slinging his arm over my back in his sleep. First thing I was petrified, but nothing happened. Although after couple of nights his hand moved downward – at first I thought he did it in his sleep, but, as he breathed into my neck, with his hand moving more to my _front_. I learned he was not. Well, I've been doing this kind of stuff myself from time to time, why not to let someone else do this to me once in a while? I had to bit my lip to not to let any sound escape my mouth – the last thing I needed was a fit of gossips circling around the organization!

Next couple of days, after this incident, were awkward, I thought I did something wrong as 'Knight' was visibly avoiding me. We couldn't look into each other's eyes. But every time I came to his mattress he moved aside, letting me in. When he started to sling his arm around my back again I felt safe. I think we've rally bonded, in a friendship kind of way, mind you! I mean, if not given circumstances, we wouldn't be doing _that_ kind of stuff together. I'm _not_ a fag!

My life had improved since banding with 'Knight'. I've quickly learnt hierarchy, whom to trust less and whom to not trust at all. With said knowledge I started to get promotion after promotion. Life was easy back then, almost bearable. I wasn't even that devastated when Six decided to join in, one way or another at night.

Yet one evening an accident happened.

The kid Six'd dragged with him turned out to be a wolf in a sheep's skin! _Spoiled meat_ looking like an innocent boy! I had to husk details from other grunts to learn the details. But when I've finally got all the pieces together… my fiancé, all my fallen comrades and helpless cases flashed before my eyes. All I wanted was to get to the kid and cram the whole cartridge into his brain – he was like everything I hated and feared compressed into one, small, big eyed kid.

But as I tightened a grip on my gun the Knight called from a small emergency phone - a plastic, bloody-red device, in the room he was currently cadged in. First thing he said was that I could take his mattress, on one condition: that Six could still sleep there as he used to in the past. He revealed that he got promoted, mostly because of his new-found lack of nanites. As my new boss he ordered me to keep a close watch on the boy – as an E.V.O. he was not to be trusted. But I did not need an order. We both experience too much together to simply not to comply to his request, hell! I would even pretend that I befriend with that 'Rex' if I would have to!

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comments, advices, constructive criticism etc. are always **welcomed** and **appreciated**!


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